Being Thankful
by LiveLoveLikeMe
Summary: Emma needs some help with Thanksgiving and turns to an unexpected source, who maybe just needs a little help of her own. Post-curse. Swan Queen, slight fluff. One-shot.


Disclaimer: I don't own the character's from OUaT. If I did, everyone would love Regina and there would be no Great Swan Queen Separation of 2012.

Author's Notes: HAPPY THANKSGIVING! All mistakes are mine. Most of it was ground out at 4am, though I did try to catch any mistakes. Also, I know less than Emma about baking, so any mistakes there are mine as well. Other than that, enjoy!

* * *

"This is going to be the best Thanksgiving ever!" Henry exclaimed to his blonde-haired mother as the two made their way from Granny's.

Some of the townspeople had gotten together and decided to put on a big Thanksgiving dinner at the diner, rather than have smaller meals with their still sparse and smaller families. Thanks to the curse, a lot of extended family members had yet to find each other—something most seemed to agree was a positive effect of it, considering who their family was.

It was going to be a rather last minute event—the holiday was only two days away, but with all the excitement and unfortunately high numbers of disasters, there hadn't been much time to think about the holiday, let alone plan for it. In fact, it wasn't until Henry had innocently asked Snow if they would all be sharing the meal together this year that the plan had actually begun to take form.

Emma, for her part, would have been content to have the meal with her newly-found parents and son, but it seemed that a lot of the town considered each other family in ways that transcended blood. She wasn't about to complain, though, since this was her first real Thanksgiving meal. It was a new concept to her, but if Henry was this excited, then she would be too.

"Definitely, kid," she said, ruffling his hair jokingly. They were walking along Main Street, heading in the direction of the local market. Snow had been abundant in her assigning of food items for each person to bring.

Granny would be in charge of the turkey—as if she'd let anyone else even consider taking her prize bird from her. There didn't seem to be any contenders to that assignment, but it could have been in part due to the steadily growing arsenal on the wall behind her that had been collecting ever since the curse broke. She insisted that one could never be too careful, but Emma had the sneaking suspicion that she was actually just a weapon junky.

Red was in charge of the cranberries, also fitting. Emma began to wonder if the food was being assigned due to cooking skills or if it was based solely on personality. For the sake of her future meal, she hoped there were cooking skills involved.

Mary Margaret, or, Snow, as she kept reminding Emma, had the candied yams. Actually, she had pushed for a "mom" once or twice too, but the freaked out look in Emma's eyes had quickly gotten her to put that on the back burner. In addition, she was being given the honor of the pumpkin pies. The two sweetest things—Emma wasn't even surprised at this point.

David… or Charming… was instructed to make the stuffing, but she was fairly certain that was only so Granny and Snow could keep a careful eye and make sure he did things correctly.

The list continued, assigning various essential meal items to Dr. Hopper, Grumpy and the other six dwarfs, Katherine, and then, finally, Snow got to Emma.

Emma tried not to laugh at the noticeable fall of her mother's face when she turned to face her, knowing perfectly well that she had experienced her attempted cooking skills as Mary Margaret enough to know they simply didn't exist. Several times she opened her mouth with an idea, then apparently changed her mind and quickly shut it. Just as Emma was about to suggest that she would just bring the napkins and save them all the trouble of coming up with something, a light bulb seemed to go off.

"Oh, I know! I almost forgot. Emma, you can bring the apple pie," Snow had said in her annoyingly cheery voice that, while Emma still adored her, made her want to slap her upside the face sometimes. Nobody could be that happy all the time. _Nobody._

Emma half-suspected she had been given the apple pie duties only because there would be enough other dessert around for people to avoid it with, but nevertheless, she still had to attempt to make the damn thing. So, with an excitedly chirping Henry in tow, she made her way to the store.

"Okay, so what do you think goes in an apple pie?" Emma asked her little mini-me as they strolled through an isle with mostly canned goods.

"Hmm." Henry lifted a hand to his chin, looking around as he though. "Well, I've seen mom make them a few times before. You definitely need apples," he declared.

"Right, apples, good thinking, kid." Emma looked at him pointedly, knowing he was making fun of her for her lack of cooking abilities, in a lighthearted way. The boy just grinned back, laughing as he walked in the direction of the fresh produce.

As Emma neared the abundant supply of different types of apples, she gawked slightly. "Your mom ever mention which type we're supposed to use?" She looked at him, eyes clearly showing distressed confusion.

"Uh, I think these ones," Henry said, pointing to a particularly red type. "Or wait… maybe it was these." He looked over and pointed to another, equally red variety. "Or actually—" Emma cut him off before he could go any further, realizing the kid clearly didn't know any better than she did.

"All right, why don't we just put a mixture of the different types in the bag. Sound good?" Emma quirked an eyebrow as she consulted her son-slash-newly appointed sous chef, who simply nodded strongly in agreement. That settled, the two went to work filling a bag with as many different apples as they thought could fit into a pie and smiled contently when finished, Henry even brushing his hands together for added effect.

Emma tossed the bag into their cart and sighed with exhaustion. This cooking thing was really beginning to take a lot out of her, and she hadn't even gotten to the hardest part yet.

"One thing down, a lot more to go. What's next?" Emma asked, looking to her young son for some sort of grocery store guidance.

"Hmm… I think we need peanut butter."

SQSQSQSQSQSQ

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Emma grumbled to herself as she stood in front of the big white door with the number 108 clearly plastered on it in elegant iron letters. There was no mistaking what she was doing; no tricking herself into believing she was standing at any other door at 1 am on the night before Thanksgiving. Emma Swan was about to subject herself to the worst possible punishment she could think of—groveling to Regina Mills.

"Miss Swan?" the aforementioned brunette asked when she finally answered the door. Her voice laced with a certain raspy quality that was stronger than usual. She had probably been sleeping, Emma realized, and if her hands weren't full she would have slapped herself in the forehead.

"I don't know how to make an apple pie," Emma blurted out without thinking. She had come with a half-assed plan that included some sweet-talk and clever ways around actually asking for help, but it seemed her frazzled mind had other arrangements.

"And you came to my house in the middle of the night, waking me up, just to tell me this?" Regina rolled her eyes, clearly not intending to open the door any further until Emma actually explained herself.

"Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and the only thing anyone trusted me with was making the apple pie. I can't ask Snow, because then she really will lose all faith in my abilities and I just don't want to fail." Regina seemed to be tossing her words over for a moment, but Emma knew there was one key word that would have Regina in the palm of her hand. "Henry said you make the best pies, so I thought you might be able to help me."

Bingo.

"Henry did?" Regina asked, suddenly showing some real interest in the clearly frazzled Sheriff's problems.

"He did," Emma confirmed with a smile. "He even helped me in the grocery store with what supplies to get for the pie. I just can't figure out what to do with them." The clearly lost look in the blonde's face was tearing at Regina's chest in an unfamiliar way. She wanted to make it go away, the simplest way being to just get rid of said woman, but the tugging was also keeping her from doing such a thing. It was decidedly strange, like dark magic, only it didn't feel dark at all—quite the opposite really.

"You let Henry dictate the ingredients for a pie?" Regina asked, eyes widening at the thought. She knew Henry liked to think he knew how to do things when in reality, she had eaten one too many Mother's Day breakfasts of chocolate eggs for her liking—at least, before he'd been given that damn book. This could only be worse.

Emma was thrown by the question, looking down at the bags still filling her hands. "Yeah, why? He said he knew what we needed." Her voice took on that typical confused tone that Regina had heard quite frequently in the days before the curse broke; something Henry seemed to have inherited as well. Sighing, she stepped aside, motioning the blonde into her home and shutting the heavy white door behind her.

Wordlessly, Regina walked in the direction of her kitchen, clearly intending for Emma to follow behind. Instead, the sheriff stood rooted in her spot by the door, finally noticing how the brunette was dressed. She had expected that the former mayor slept in something proper, conservative maybe—or at least would be the type of person to put on a robe—but nope. Regina had on a skimpy little red silk slip that barely even covered her ass, revealing long legs in addition to her bare shoulders, only blocked partly by a thin spaghetti strap. Emma wanted to move, she really did, but her legs appeared to be broken.

Now at the entry to the kitchen, Regina turned gracefully towards the blonde with a raised eyebrow, but all Emma noticed was the frontal view she now had, and appreciated even more.

"Miss Swan, are you coming, or do you plan to just loiter in my entryway all night?" Regina snapped.

"Oh.. I, uh." It seemed her mouth wasn't working either.

Regina eyed the blonde carefully, following her gaze to her own assets and smirked. Was Emma Swan checking her out? Impossible. They hated each other, right? "See something you like, Miss Swan?" she asked with a hint of arrogance in her voice. She really enjoyed seeing Emma fall all over herself—and this was without even trying.

"You look nice in red," Emma blurted, shocking them both. Regina waited for the punch line or crude comment that would have normally fallen from the blonde's lips, but none came. Instead, Emma stood toying with a lock of her hair awkwardly, as if she'd been caught playing with something she shouldn't have.

Regina cleared her throat, not used to hearing such a compliment, especially from the annoying blonde sheriff that she usually only spoke with in short quips or backhanded insults. "Shall we get to that pie?" she asked, replacing any slight loss of composure with her typical smooth face. She still didn't entirely trust that the insult wasn't coming.

"Right," Emma sighed. She finally managed to make her legs work and followed Regina and the red silk into the kitchen.

Emma placed the heavy bags on Regina's pristine counter, causing the items to bang together and disrupt the seemingly peaceful nature of the house. It seemed to slightly rattle Regina for a second, but she quickly pulled together and peered nervously at the bags.

"All right, show me what monstrosity of ingredients you let Henry convince you to buy," Regina quipped.

Emma shot her a warning look, but even she had to admit as she pulled various things out on the counter that something seemed off. When she was finished, Emma looked up at Regina, trying to gauge from her unchanging expression how close she was.

After staring with pursed lips for nearly a full minute, Regina finally reached out and picked up a jar. "Peanut butter, really?" She couldn't even hold in the laugh that bubbled out of her lips. Between Emma's scared puppy eyes and the array of decidedly not apple pie ingredients, her tired mind couldn't hold it in.

Emma seemed to loosen up at the uncharacteristic response of the former Mayor and joined in the laughing, looking through the various Jell-O mixes and Bisquick boxes.

"This is why you should never listen to a ten year old without further backup, Miss Swan," Regina scolded lightheartedly. "Did you at least purchase apples?"

"Oh, right!" Emma reached into the other shopping bag and pulled out the variety of apples she'd picked out with Henry, smiling proudly as she held up the one thing she had done correctly.

"What the hell is that?" Regina nearly yelled, her face contorting in a peculiar look of amusement and disgust.

"Apples," Emma said, her brow furrowing in confusion. How could she have possible messed this up too?

"What did you do, buy a variety bag?"

"No," Emma looked down, suddenly feeling a bit small. "We just stuck random ones in that looked good," she added sheepishly.

Regina took a deep breath, trying her best to retain her composure. She closed her eyes, reminding herself that Emma was an amateur who probably didn't know better. Though, in all honesty, she figured a monkey would probably have known better than that.

"Miss Swan," Regina began, testing her voice to make sure it came out evenly. "We cannot bake a pie using… that." She gestured wildly to the bag, earning a disappointed frown from the blonde. "No matter, though. You'll just have to go out back and pick some of mine."

"You want me to feed a pie to everyone, using _your_ apples?" Emma questioned nervously. There was, after all, quite the history with Regina's apples.

Regina's apples. There was something… almost sexy about the sound of it that Emma liked, despite the fact that they typically came as a nicely packaged poison. The fruit was the furthest thing from Emma's mind as her eyes drifted back to the woman's ample cleavage, completely against her own free will, of course.

The low clearing of a throat told her that Regina noticed exactly where her eyes had fallen. Emma looked up, meeting Regina's sharp glare, and she couldn't be sure if the look was a response to her words or to her actions.

"Don't be ridiculous, dear. That apple didn't even come from my tree. They are perfectly safe and better than anything you'll find in that monstrosity." Regina motioned helplessly towards Emma's mixed bag.

"Right," Emma murmured, finally relenting and heading to Regina's back yard.

Finally having a moment to herself, Regina allowed an unguarded deep breath to consume her. It was hard to keep up her composure with those bluish-green eyes practically plastered to her from the moment the blonde had arrived.

Regina ran a hair through her slightly sleep ruffled hair and looked at her reflection in the oven door. Her eyes looked tired—her face was free of any makeup. She only hoped that the nightgown proved to be enough of a distraction for Emma. The image of Emma staring at her with those hungry eyes and moving forward to rip the red silk off was immediately bit back; she did not need to be having fantasies about another woman—especially that one. Emma Swan is the enemy, Regina reminded herself, though the fact that she found herself actually helping the other woman with a pie in the middle of the night without complaint seemed to say otherwise.

Regina busied herself with preparing the rest of the ingredients that Emma seemed to be lacking. Between the supplies of her kitchen and the things in the shopping bags, there somehow were enough of the correct ingredients for a successful pie.

Sooner than she would have liked, the blonde intruder returned, apples in tow.

"Now what?" Emma asked as she unceremoniously dropped the armful of apples onto the counter, eliciting another sharp glare from the brunette.

"Wash the apples in the sink," Regina commanded, figuring it was safer to give Emma the easier tasks while she began mixing the ingredients for her crust together in a bowl.

The pair worked in silence for a few minutes, letting the sound of the running water fill their thoughts instead. Regina had purposefully positioned herself so she was facing away from the sheriff and her typical way-too-tight for comfort blue jeans. There was no way she was going to let anything from this woman distract her enough to lose her cool.

"All right, nice and clean. What's next?" Emma asked.

Regina bit back a laugh, for it looked like the blonde was worn out just from washing the fruits. At the same time, though, it made her slightly nervous about whatever she put her in charge of next.

"Can you cut and peel the apples?" Regina inquired almost nervously. She didn't particularly care for the idea of letting the blonde hold any sharp objects that she could potentially injure herself with. It could ruin her pie, which she was certain was all she cared about. There was just no way she'd felt a flash of concern for the other woman's well-being, was there?

"Sure," Emma replied, much more confidently than she felt. She looked down at the aforementioned fruits nervously. _It can't be that hard, right?_ she thought.

Regina set out to rolling the dough and within a few minutes had a perfect crust ready in the pan to bake—all it needed was the insides. The brunette looked over, albeit nervously, to check on the progress of her unlikely kitchen companion and nearly gasped at what she saw. Emma had yet to move past the peeling stage, and was currently butchering another apple that kept slipping in her fingers as she tried to cut.

"Miss Swan!" Regina exclaimed, startling the blonde to the point where she nearly cut herself.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked, alarmed. She began looking around for some sign of anything out of place, but all she could come up with was the horrified look on Regina's face directed right at her.

"That is no way to peel an apple," Regina explained, slightly calmer now that the attack on her precious fruit had ceased for the time being. "Let me show you."

Shocking both of them, Regina came up behind Emma, reaching her arms around to grab a fresh apple and the knife. The warmth of the brunette's breath could be felt on Emma's neck, so close she could almost feel the former mayor's lips on her skin. Regina kept space between their bodies, but as she began to speak, Emma's legs went weak and she felt herself leaning back into the other woman's strong stance.

"An apple is a very supple fruit, Miss Swan, but it's also quite delicate. With the right technique, though, you can remove the skin in one clean motion and keep the rest of it juicy and sweet," Regina practically purred.

They were so close, but Emma risked turning her head to look at the woman behind her. Regina's eyes were solidly on the apple in front of her that she was impressively skinning with one long swirl of red. Emma kept her eyes on the brunette while she finished the apple and smiled to herself at the success. Putting the knife down, Regina glanced up to Emma's pressing look and felt something flutter. She knew she should move away, but a strange sensation was holding her in place just a little bit longer. There was a familiar heat building inside her at their close proximity, and something about the way Emma was staring was different from times between them before.

Usually Emma looked at her with a bit of hatred, distrust, occasionally lust and, though Regina hated to admit it, even a few times pity. Now, however, Regina saw desire. There was nothing hurtful or malice behind the stare, not even uncertainty—just total, uncharted want. Before her mind could even think what to do, Regina's lips were attacking the pink lips only inches away.

The kiss was brief, but filled with so much force and passion from both ends that each party had to catch her breath when they simultaneously pulled away. Regina took a step back, hand going to her chest as a sign of surprise at what had just occurred. Her lips were still tingling with the sensation of the sheriff's soft touch.

They stared at each other for another moment, both not quite knowing what to say. Luckily, Regina seemed to gain her composure back quickly, trying to control her fluster beneath a mask of indifference. "I'll finish the apples," Regina said, clearing her throat when it came out surprisingly hoarse. "Can you just mix the rest of the ingredients together? Everything is placed out on the counter over there, and the recipe is next to the bowl."

Though it was voiced as a question, Emma knew better than to go against Regina's orders—especially in the kitchen. It was just like the brunette to try and ice over what had just happened. Though she had yet to fully wrap her mind around it either, they could at least acknowledge it. As Emma busied herself with her grumbling thoughts while she mixed the things together, Regina was having a slightly different reaction.

_Love is weakness. Love is weakness,_ Regina chanted in her mind over and over again. Wait, love? When did Emma and the word love even dare exist in the same sentence? She was positively screwed. It was fun teasing Emma—wearing her skimpy little nightgowns and all but invading her personal space, but now things had gone a step further than Regina's control normally allowed and she didn't like it one bit. Well, she did like parts of it—the kiss for instance—but that wasn't appropriate.

What would Henry think if he knew she'd just kissed his birth mother? She shuttered at the idea, musing that he would actually probably be quite happy with it. Maybe not the kissing part, but he would surely love having his two mothers together.

"Regina?" a nervous voice asked from behind her, startling the woman enough to elicit a quick jump.

"Yes, Miss Swan?" Regina ground out, once she had established who the intruding voice belonged to.

"I'm, uh, finished."

Regina turned and walked over to inspect the work in the mixing bowl, feeling quite pleased that Emma hadn't managed to mess it up. Despite her wandering mind, Regina's long years of cooking experience had allowed her to flawlessly finish peeling and chopping the apples, and it was now ready to be put together and placed in the waiting crust.

"I can finish this up and get it in the oven. We'll have to wait for it to bake and cool, so you might as well get us some drinks," Regina ordered calmly, as if nothing had taken place before. She set to work, ignoring the flustered Emma who was looking around hopelessly.

"The wine cabinet is open, feel free to pick whatever you'd like."

Emma took this as her cue to leave the room, looking in search of the wine cabinet. She knew she'd seen Regina go to it before, but usually she found herself a bit distracted around the mayor. It was located rather quickly and Emma found herself presented with another interesting dilemma—she didn't know the first thing about wine.

After a moment of contemplation, which was really just time spent staring blankly at all the French-sounding names, Emma grabbed the nearest bottle of red. _Regina likes everything else red, so why not wine,_ Emma mused, pleased with her choice.

A shelf of wine glasses and other assorted special tumblers was attached above the cabinet, so Emma snagged two and walked back around the corner into the kitchen, where Regina was just placing the finished pie in the oven. She couldn't help but stare as the brunette swung her ass around in the air while she moved to adjust the pie. There was something almost deliberate about how sensual it was, especially after that kiss, and Emma could feel herself blushing immensely.

Regina straightened back up all too soon for her liking, and she noticed that the other woman hadn't gotten even a speck of food on her nightie during all their baking. Looking down, Emma realized that her own black top was covered with flour—an especially extraordinary feat, considering she never even touched any.

"Shit," Emma swore, trying in vain to wipe the flour off, despite the two wine glasses and bottle still tucked away in her hands.

Regina, spotting the disaster just waiting to happen, briskly moved forward and removed the delicate items from the sheriff's clumsy grip.

"Miss Swan, please try to remove the mess you've gotten all over yourself before we migrate to my study. I'd prefer it if you didn't bring half the pie with you," Regina said evenly as she began pouring the wine into the two glasses, filling them as high as she figured Emma could handle before spilling occurred.

"Emma."

"Hmm?" Regina hummed, looking up from what she was doing, brow crinkled in confusion.

"My name is Emma, Regina. I think that people who kiss should at least be on a first name basis," she bit out with a syrupy fake sweetness.

"Kissed," the fiery brunette hissed out, emphasizing the past tense of the event. Regina sent her a glare that just dared her to even mention the kiss again, but it only seemed to egg Emma on more strongly.

"No, I'm sure it will happen again," Emma said, before casually removing her flour covered shirt, leaving nothing but a flimsy tank top underneath.

"What are you doing?" Regina screeched out, though her typical façade couldn't even hide the fact that her eyes went directly to Emma's perfectly toned arms.

"Cleaning up," Emma explained blatantly. "Oh, and proving a point."

"And what point might that be, pray tell?" Regina was doing all she could to remain calm, but she could swear that the sheriff had just made her muscles ripple. It was becoming increasingly difficult to not reach out and run her long fingers over the perfectly toned limbs.

"The fact that you can't even keep your eyes off me right now, tells me that you _do_ want to kiss me again. Maybe even more," Emma added boldly. Sometimes she wondered where her courage came from when it came to the things she said to Regina. The words were bold and risqué, but in a different way that she would never risk with anyone else. The heat that immediately flushed in Regina's cheeks, however, reassured her that she'd said the right thing.

Regina, at an unusual loss for a response, simple settled for an exaggerated eye roll as she picked up a wine glass and the bottle, heading for the study with Emma quickly catching up behind.

Somehow both women ended up next to each other on the couch, Regina making a surprising change from her typical isolated chair. She told herself it was only to be closer to the table, so she could set the wine glass down if needed.

"So," Emma began after a moment of awkward silence, not sure if it was safe to continue badgering Regina about the kiss, "what are your big plans for tomorrow?"

Regina notably stiffened, taking a contemplative sip of her wine before speaking. "I'll just be getting some work done."

Emma raised an eyebrow, looking at Regina like she'd grown a second head. "Work for what? It's not like you're still the mayor. Do I need to be worried about another curse in the works?"

Regina chucked half-heartedly, looking to the ground almost sadly as she took what was more akin to a gulp than a sip from the wine this time. "No, no curses. I'm just not much in the mood to celebrate, I suppose."

Then it hit Emma; Regina had only had Henry in her life for ten years. They probably had begun their own little holiday meal and rituals, but now that he was no longer living with his adoptive mother, she really had no one. It kind of broke her heart, and Emma had to wonder when she'd started caring so much about what happened to the woman. She was the evil queen after all, but it just didn't feel right.

"Well, I suggest you get in the mood, because you're coming to the big party at Granny's with Henry and me."

"I am?" Regina asked, confused.

"Of course, you didn't think I'd let you practically bake the pie for me and not invite you to have some, did you?" Emma asked. While that hadn't exactly been her intention, her suddenly apparent attachment to the brunette's concern won out.

"Miss Swan—"

"Emma," she corrected stubbornly.

"Emma," Regina began again, placing her wine glace down before putting a tentative hand on Emma's knee, "I appreciate the invitation, but I have no intention of showing up uninvited to dinner with your family."

"It's not just my family," Emma countered. "Besides, I just invited you, so you are invited."

"But—"

"No 'buts,' Regina! There will be plenty of food, and if anyone complains, I can just pull the 'you sent me away in a magical tree and I grew up in crappy foster homes' card."

Regina chuckled softly, suddenly taking great interest in an invisible fleck of lint on the edge of her silk nightgown. Sighing, Emma reached out a hand and cupped Regina's cheek, slowly bringing her head up so their eyes could meet.

"I bet Henry would love to have you there," she said, and it appeared to be the magic words, for Regina's eyes simply lit up at the idea of her son wanting to spend time with her.

"What about you?" Regina husked suddenly, wondering even herself where the words had come from.

"I—," Emma was at a loss for what to say. Of course she wanted her there, she realized, just like she always seemed to want her around, no matter how infuriating she could be. Saying it out loud, though, seemed a lot riskier than simply thinking it. It wasn't just an answer of if she wanted her at Thanksgiving dinner, but more Regina's way of asking if she wanted her.

"Yes," Emma finally whispered, closing the short distance between their lips once more. This time, the kiss was slow and sensual; both seemed to relax into each other more now that it was familiar. Emma shivered at the feeling of Regina's scar against her lip, pushing herself just a bit harder against its texture.

Regina twisted her hand into Emma's long, tangled blonde locks, pulling hard enough to elicit a moan against her lips in response. She'd always wanted to know what the hair felt like, and it was pure silk to her hands. Moving lower, she took the opportunity to grip Emma's strong muscles with her other hand, finding the smooth expanse of her skin to be even more enticing than her voluptuous hair.

Emma toyed dangerously with the thin straps of Regina's clothing, not quite pulling it all the way off her bare shoulders, but teetering on the edge the whole time, teasing.

Only when the need for air became too strong did they pull apart, neither leaving the other's personal space.

"Why?" Regina breathed out.

"I care about you," Emma stated simply. Well, the words were simple, but the weight behind them was anything but. Regina was searching her eyes for some indication that it wasn't sincere, but Emma could tell she wasn't finding any.

"I'll come, on one condition," Regina purred breathlessly.

"What's that?" Emma asked nervously. With Regina, it really could be anything.

"We get to kiss again, _Emma_," Regina added pointedly.

"I believe that can be arranged, Regina." Emma smiled, closing the distance between them once more before abruptly pulling back just as Regina was about to beg for entrance into her mouth.

"One more thing," Emma said, seriousness taking control of her features as she captivated Regina's attention.

"What?" Now it was Regina's turn to be nervous. She imagined Emma saying this was all some cruel joke; that she didn't really care about her or even want to kiss her.

"We probably shouldn't tell them that you helped me with the pie. No offense, but with your apple track record…"

WHACK!

Regina smacked Emma's bare arm playfully, smiling in spite of herself.

"Emma!"

SQSQSQSQSQSQ

THANKSGIVING DAY:

"This is a bad idea," Regina worried, walking alongside Emma on the way to Granny's.

"Regina, relax." Emma sighed for the fifteenth time that day. Ever since she'd arrived in the morning to pick the brunette up, because she refused to show up alone to a dinner she wasn't even originally welcome at, Regina had done nothing but worry. It was strange that she was even allowing Emma to see such a display of emotion, but the blonde was happy that she was at least sharing it.

Or at least, she had been the first several times. Now it was becoming a bit disconcerting.

"I'd like to see you relax, knowing that you're about to walk in to a gathering of people who want to kill you," Regina deadpanned. She had a point though, Emma mused. It couldn't be easy for the brunette, admitting to everyone that she had no one else by showing up where she knew she'd be ridiculed.

"You'll be fine," Emma said, more to convince herself.

"Oh, and you know this because?" she bit back.

"Because nobody is going to mess with the Savior's date," Emma declared proudly.

"Date?" Regina couldn't help the curious smile from playing across her lips for a moment. This did feel rather date-like, she supposed, though in all actuality she'd never been on a true one. Her relationship with Daniel had always been only secret meetings, and after that it was just a line of people for sex—nothing more. This was new to her, but if it really was a date, she was beginning to realize it might not be such a bad thing.

"Well, yeah, I mean" Emma stumbled through her words. "If you want to be, that is."

Regina stopped walking, partly because they were now outside the diner and partly because she needed to say something before they went in and she exposed herself to a million worded arrows. "I would like that."

"Really?" Emma asked, a goofy grin spreading across her face.

"Mhmm," Regina sighed happily. "I don't know what this is between us, and maybe now is not the time to try and figure that out, but what I do know is that you make me happy, Emma, and that's all I've ever really wanted."

Emma shuffled the pie to the side, reaching down to capture the brunette's lips once more.

"It will be fine," she whispered reassuringly, one more time before grabbing Regina's hand in her own and opening the door.

To say the silence was deafening would be an understatement. Emma immediately regretted her decision, wishing instead that she'd just had Henry come with her to a quiet evening at Regina's. It seemed, however, that her fight or flight response was staying directly on fight, as she puffed out her chest and looked to the numerous pairs of shocked eyes with a daring expression, grasping Regina's hand just a bit tighter.

"Mom?!" Henry was the first to break the silence, barreling towards Regina and almost knocking her over with the force of his hug. "What are you doing here?"

Regina laughed in surprise and bent over to speak with her son, eliciting a different kind of warmth from Emma's heart. She didn't feel jealous like she should have, but rather joyful at seeing how Regina simply lit up in Henry's presence. She'd have to make a mental note to make sure Regina got to see him more often.

"Emma, when you said you had to pick something up first, I didn't think you meant _her,_" Snow bit through her teeth, whispering to Emma as she pulled her aside.

"It's Thanksgiving. Please don't cause any problems," Emma begged firmly.

"Me? I assure you that I am not the one you should be worried about," Snow ground out.

"Snow!"

"Well, it's true. I just don't understand why you would want her here—"

"Mom!" That got her to stop talking. Snow simply smiled at the term of endearment, seeming to not notice the rather unendearing way in which it had been used.

"If it's that important to you, then I'll make sure to keep things as civil as I can," Snow relented, seeing the look of determination on her daughter's face and feeling softened.

"It is. Thank you," Emma sighed, pulling her mother into an awkward hug that involved some serious juggling of the pie.

"Oh here, I'll take that to the kitchen," she said, eyeing the pie with pleasant surprise and walking off.

Emma resumed her position next to Regina, who was just ruffling Henry's hair in response to something he'd said. She placed a gentle hand on the brunette's back, silently telling her to calm down once more. Regina looked over gratefully and leaned into the hold slightly, feeling the emanating comfort.

"I am so glad you both are here!" Ruby suddenly exclaimed, popping up in front of them from seemingly nowhere.

"You are?" Regina asked in shock, forgetting her calm façade for a moment.

"Of course! I was afraid tonight was going to be boring, but now everyone is talking about you two… in a good way, of course," Ruby explained uneasily when she realized what she'd said.

Before either woman could even manage a response, Granny called out that it was time to be seated to eat. Henry sat down between Regina and Emma, the kid as content as could be.

"Before we eat, I think everyone should go around the table and say what they're thankful for," Archie said, ever the one for doing something good.

"I'll go first!" Henry exclaimed, probably the only one at the table actually excited to have his eating delayed by some seemingly pointless exercise. When no one protested this, he began. "I'm thankful that I get to spend Thanksgiving with both my moms! This is the best one ever," he said proudly, looking lovingly back and forth between them.

Emma was next. "Well," she began awkwardly, "I guess I'm thankful for the family I have now. I've never really done the whole big dinner thing, and I'm glad it's with all of you that I get to first experience it." Though the speech was for everyone, her eyes were directed at Regina the whole time.

They went the rest of the way around the table, everyone taking their turns respectively, mostly giving off short and sweet answers of how happy they were to be together. Then it got to Regina, who everyone stared at nervously.

"I am thankful that I get to spend today with my son, of course," she said, looking lovingly at Henry. They thought she was finished, but then a few hesitant words sprang from her mouth that seemed to get stronger as she continued. "But I'm also thankful for Emma. You may have saved everyone else from my curse," she chucked nervously, getting a few people to even join along, "but you were my Savior here too."

Their eyes met, and nothing was exchanged but contentment and love. They may have had a lot to sort out, but Regina was confident that it would be for the better in the end.

And with that, Henry smiled even wider than before, and raised his fork to the air. "Let's eat!"


End file.
